


Wandering Stars

by ghaskan



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Backstory, Diary/Journal, Gen, POV First Person, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 01:57:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10980954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghaskan/pseuds/ghaskan
Summary: All fiction draws inspiration from reality.





	Wandering Stars

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILS THE ENDING OF DANGANRONPA V3 PROCEED WITH CAUTION!!

My name’s Momota Kaito, and ever since I can remember I’ve been the black sheep in the family. My grades sucked because I didn’t have the time to study, not when I had fights to get into. Thankfully, whenever I shot a glare at the nerds in my class they’d quickly spill the answers to the homework I hadn’t solved. That’s how I got by for a few years.

-

One day, I'd been happily socking some punk in the face when a low baritone cut the punk's whimpering off, telling me to stop beating the proverbial dead horse. Not letting go of my prey’s collar, I glanced back to see a midget spitting on the ground in front of him, somehow not letting go of the piece of candy stuck between his teeth. He crossed his arms, and gave me the evil eye (or rather the fish eye, because his eyes were fucking huge, making them pretty scary when wide open like that). I laughed in his face, and asked him if he had a death wish. “Well, do _you_ have a death wish?” he said to me, unflinching. I let go of the punk I had been occupied with, and he scurried away as I rose up, dwarfing the baritone guy. I spat in his face and bared my teeth at him, my right fist shaking in anticipation for the blow I’d surely land square between his damn fish eyes.

Getting in a fight with him was both the best and worst decision I’d made in my life.

-

It was a few days before I was able to stand straight again. That was how bad the beating I got from the midget was. His name, I later learned, was Hoshi Ryouma. Tough little fella, used to the harshness of the streets and leader of a pack of misfits who called themselves “Shooting Stars”. The name was as cheesy as they come, but no one dared laugh at it, because not even the loudest guffaw is worth an express ticket to the infirmary. I realized being a lone wolf didn’t cut it anymore, so I arranged a meeting with Hoshi and asked him to join his gang. Hell, I glued my head to the floor and fucking begged him for forgiveness. He could’ve easily turned me down and told his goons to make me taste dirt, but he ran his hand through his brick hair (rumour has it that he used to sport a black bowl cut), and said yes and that was that.

-

The thing that impressed me the most about Hoshi was how well he handled himself in spite of his handicap. What he lacked in height he made up in brawn, and his thighs were thick enough to propel him up to break the noses of tall punks who dared defy him. In fact, he did just that to some lion-maned rich kid who waltzed in like he owned the turf. “This ain't no place for someone like you”, Hoshi had said before sending him away in an ambulance.

-

Hoshi was as just as he was tough. When it came to beating punches he didn't get to it without a damn good reason. For example, he had zero tolerance for thieves. It wasn't cool to steal from others, he'd say. Mighty impressive attitude coming from someone whose family could barely put food on the table. How can I not respect someone like that? And I'm not alone. The other guys have nothing but praise for Hoshi, and that's what keeps us tight.

-

Hoshi didn’t stick only to the streets. He was a smart guy, and he’d visit the public library a couple times a week. Once he nonchalantly invited me to tag along and I didn’t let the chance slip by. In fact, I started going with him almost every time after that. I learned that, ironically enough, he had a penchant for crime novels. He’d often get into heated arguments about those books with a scrawny guy who was always hiding his pretty face under a cap despite there being no sun shining inside. They kept on trashing each other’s tastes, and every time I feared they’d start a fight and get us thrown out, but it always ended with them in smiles. I could tell that they were good friends.

-

As I was spending my days leisurely like that, time sped by as if driving in the fast lane. Like all things in this life, the precarious peace I’d found wasn’t going to last.

Soon before we were to graduate middle school, Danganronpa started looking for people for the cast of their newest season, and I found out that Hoshi had signed up for an interview. I could see why he’d do it (his mother’s sickness had only gotten worse), but the situation didn’t sit well with me. We got into a fight, exchanging a fuckton of bitter words. I regret the things I said, but not their intention. People die all the time in that fucking show, all to entertain bored guys who need a distraction after itching their balls all day. Though, it’s funny I’d get unsettled by that. Me, the guy whose past-time was getting into fights. But I didn’t want Hoshi to die.

Both of us knew he’d get in no problem due to his appearance. I caught wind that he also had wrote down a damn impressive character and backstory during his stays in the library. I had to do something, anything at all. I’d do whatever it took to help him live.

I scored an interview with the guys behind the show, Team Danganronpa. I tried using my looks and reputation to my advantage, but in the end they told me that plain old delinquents didn’t make the cut anymore. It was too boring and predictable, they said. I insisted, and they put forward a proposal. If I let them infect me with a virus specially engineered for use in the show to help them build a character they had in mind, they’d let me in. The whole ordeal would likely have an effect on my lifespan, they said, but they were willing to pay a price to match my life’s worth. I signed the papers and left with more money than I could ever hope to spend.

There’s only a few days left before Danganronpa Season 53 starts, and I have a hunch that I haven’t earned a survivor spot. That’s fine with me. That’s why I sat down to write this goddamn thing after all. Writing’s never been my forte, but I learned a thing or two after reading all those crime novels. You hear me, Hoshi? I’d started to like those damn things. The times I’ve spent with you were fun, really, the most fun I’ve had in my life. That’s why I hope you’ll read these words in the future. I’ll be damned if you won’t come out of this game alive. I won’t let you die on me, you hear?!

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I used their fictional names for the sake of simplicity, but it's very possible they were called something else entirely back in the pre-killing game days.
> 
> Many thanks to [auto](https://autoryo.tumblr.com/) for the picture at the end!


End file.
